


lover and the sky

by anthiese



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/F, Original Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no beta we die like Glenn, there will be canon character backstory and it's gonna be funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthiese/pseuds/anthiese
Summary: Somehow, in that cold piece of marble, she could see the shadow of a woman's green eyes.(It had to be a trick of the light.)A doroingrid Pygmalion&Galatea AU!
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58
Collections: Bread Eaters





	1. crowned eagle

**Author's Note:**

> 8 years of latin and i make this? well. i do think ovid would be proud of me for making something like this, gay and existing just for the sake of it. it'll update slowly, but i hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been envy.

I.

Dorothea set the rasp down with a heavy sigh. The marble didn’t move. The eagle’s wings were spread wide in front of her, white and unmoving, but open and reaching high for the sky. She’d thought about it, while sculpting this one, about seeing the sky again, about feeling the wind in her hair and letting the freezing waters of a river kiss her skin. 

That told her exactly why the eagle wasn’t flying. Envy. Again. 

She thought she’d been improving, and maybe she had. She'd sculpted little things recently – sea shells, polished jewels, even a multitude of flowers – and they’d taken life, gained color right beneath her eyes. The goddess had been pleased, she’d told Dorothea so in her dreams, and through the fires that lit the corners of her workshop, and Dorothea had thought she’d be able to free herself soon, after years and years of proving herself, her ability, her true genius – her pure heart. 

_I will show you this time, Seiros,_ she’d told the goddess in her dreams, the night her celestial messenger had delivered that block of marble by her door, _I will free the soul trapped in there, and you will descend from Zanado to congratulate me._

Then the goddess had laughed, and told her to worry about her own soul, as a golden eagle perched on her shoulder. 

And Dorothea hadn’t worried, because it had been so easy with small things: she freed their bodies from the marble, and appreciated their beauty, so gentle, so fleeting, and soon their souls were free again. 

But the moment she had tried with something more ambitious, it had all come back tumbling. 

_I want to be majestic. I want to be brave. I want to fly. I want to be free again._

_...I deserve it, not this creature._

The thoughts had led each move of her chisel, each hit of her hammer. They’d spoiled the work, and now that eagle would never fly again. 

Maybe, neither would she. 

“Forgive me,” she whispered to the lifeless sculpture. 

-

From the clouds above came the goddess’s messenger, that night, skipping through the air in his winged boots, moonlight raining down his dark hair, to knock at the window of her high tower, and to deliver a far smaller piece of marble than last time. Dorothea watched as he left it in the middle of the workshop, lifted the marble eagle as if it was but a single feather, and disappeared through her window again. 

Seiros appeared to her when she fell asleep, tears dry on her cheeks. They stood together by a riverbank, golden trees spreading as far as her eyes could see, covering the horizon and blurring the color of the sky, when the goddess took Dorothea’s hands, clasped tight around her chisel. The tool fell and tumbled down into the river, but the goddess paid it no mind. 

“Start again with something smaller, songbird.” 

Then she pried her hands open, and Dorothea watched as a flurry of sky-blue feathers appeared from the nothingness, and a warm breeze rose from the water to send them flying all around her, until the dream was but a storm of majestic colors, until the goddess’s smile disappeared in the blur. 

When Dorothea opened her eyes again to the dawn and the new piece of marble, she remembered the goddess, and the dream, and the beauty. And as the sunlight fell over the block of white, she could almost see a flash of blue, the tremble of feathers fluttering right beneath it. 

She picked up herself, then her chisel, then her hammer, and she started again. 


	2. snow white columbine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn, Glenn, Glenn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's actually one galatea in the metamorphoses, and she isn't a statue. so we're pushing those two stories together

II.

The light had left long ago. There had been cold, and then even that had left. The pain in her stiff limbs had subsided, and at last there had been some semblance of calm. 

The pain in her heart hadn’t changed one bit, though. It felt still as real as it had been in that instant and the thousand more that followed, and it thrummed in the back of her throat as the river flowed on right below it. 

_Glenn, Glenn, Glenn,_ she called, and he wouldn’t answer, he’d never answer again, not in any way that wasn’t the rumbling of the waters. She listened to it, and pretended it was his voice, calling out her name. 

It was getting hard to remember it, at this point. It was hard to remember anything before the pain. And maybe it was better this way. Her body slept, at least, and didn’t force her to carry on walking upon the bloodied earth alone. 

Then someone thought to meddle. 

“Haven’t you been sleeping enough?” 

Suddenly she was aware of her eyes, as a bright figure appeared next to her, burning light tearing through the darkness, and revealing an endless dark cave all around her. The figure kneeled in front of her eyes, and after staring at nothing for what had to be an eternity, she recognized two colors, golden and green – the figure’s searing eyes. She wanted to shake her head, to cover her face, to run away, but the weight over her kept her still, pinned to the rocky ground of the riverbank. 

“You have, Ingrid.” The voice spoke again. 

That was her name, and it came back to her as naturally as the air came back to her numb lungs. 

It was painful. Feeling came back to her body inch by inch, and for once she wanted to use her voice to scream, but it felt far too weak in her throat, and when she tried gasping the sound was all but drowned as the river’s dark waters filled her mouth. 

Then the figure’s hand grabbed at her hair, and pulled, and Ingrid heard the sound of rock breaking and tumbling down, and she remembered Glenn in the moment he’d been taken away from her, and then the hand let her go, and she wasn’t drowning anymore; her eyes were looking down on the river, and on who stood in the middle of it. Ingrid didn’t know how, but she recognized the figure. 

“Seiros,” she said, and the goddess nodded. 

“You have become something unsightly, Ingrid.” 

There was no venom in the goddess’s voice, but she still felt the need to look away. 

“I am what I am.” 

“A cluster of rocks in my mother’s green gardens, polluting the river she made of your beloved,” came the icy reply. 

_I’m sorry,_ Ingrid thought, because her breath was already leaving her lungs again, _I’m sorry, goddess, I’m sorry, Glenn._

The goddess kneeled in front of her, her eyes burning like the sun – the old, old memory she had of the sun, and of how painful it was to look into it – and somehow, Ingrid already knew what she was going to tell her. 

“You will need to wake up soon, child, or you will make this into your grave.” 

Fear seized her. After a lifetime, or maybe two, or maybe all of eternity, Ingrid felt fear – the fear of death – course all through her numb limbs, the way it had when she’d seen him bleed out in the grass. She found the strength to lift all the weight that rested upon her head, and to nod. 

The goddess was pleased. 

“I will return,” she said simply. 

Then she dissolved into nothing, and Ingrid was alone in the darkness once more. 


	3. that one songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other humans didn’t deserve to see her at her lowest, to pass their judgement on her. The goddess did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> felt pretentious and indulgent and gay enough to write a bit more of this. enjoy!

III.

The creature was far smaller than what Dorothea was used to creating. Back when she was free, it would be tall, majestic statues of emperors and kings and nobles and gods, up until the day she met the mighty Seiros. 

It felt like an eternity ago now, that she’d been locked in to pay back for her crime. Sometimes she remembered how it had felt, to break that glorious piece of marble into a hundred pieces. It had been elation, ecstasy, and then the deepest of shames. 

Then the goddess had seen her, before her rival did, and maybe it had been for the best. She had lost, after all. The other humans didn’t deserve to see her at her lowest, to pass their judgement on her. The goddess did. 

And the goddess had. 

A single look to the destroyed image of her likeness, one to Dorothea’s pitiful form, and the sentence had passed—the walls of the sky closed around her, dragging her away from the porch of the temple, into a tower higher than the clouds themselves, higher than the birds would dare fly. 

It had been years since she last saw one. Since she’d seen any living creature, beside the goddess’s messenger (but he had never been much for conversation). Most times, Dorothea hadn’t missed those sights —she had her work to worry about, her work and the goddess’s payment and her freedom— but when she’s seen that eagle fail to take flight, something had shifted. 

She’d never failed someone, something other than herself. She didn’t want to do it again. 

_If I can help it, if my skill is enough,_ she said to the small, imperfect piece of marble on her desk, _you will fly again. I can’t let it be otherwise._

She swallowed her fears, and worked her file on the tiny wing, scraping and scraping and searching for the shape that hid beneath the limestone. 

-

By nightfall it sat so perfectly in front of her, a white lark like those she used to chase outside her master’s workshop as a child. A tiny marble masterpiece in its own right, that Dorothea hoped Seiros would appreciate. 

Then the wings flapped. 

Dorothea rubbed her eyes. 

They flapped again, once, twice more, as color and life breathed in the little statue. Then it was flying, all through the workshop before landing on Dorothea’s knee. 

She started crying. She started laughing. She dropped on her bed while the bird kept circling her head, singing her the happiest song she’d ever heard.

She didn’t notice she’d fallen asleep until Seiros appeared by her side. The lark jumped between the goddess’s hands. 

“What improvement,” she said, “you make strides.” 

Dorothea smiled. “I hope it pleases you.” 

“It does.” The goddess replied. “There is worth, in a life so small. Even if it isn’t your own.” 

“I was scared.” Dorothea confessed. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to free it.” 

“Yet you did.” 

The goddess lifted the bird, and Dorothea watched it take flight into a golden sky, though its song could still reach her ears. 

Then Seiros spoke again. 

“Would you feel ready if I put human life in your hands?” 

Dorothea looked back down, to the goddess sitting beside her. “No.” She replied. 

“That was the answer I wanted from you,” the goddess said, her eyes shining bright. 

Then birdsong resounded loud through the dream, and before Dorothea could question further, it was morning again. 


	4. gold on tailing vines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, quarantine kinda forces you to be productive... happy white day!

IV. 

Her lids still felt heavy, as if they alone carried the weight of all the earth above her, yet it had gotten easier for Ingrid to keep them open, fixed on the shadows before her. At times, if she let herself be distracted from the call of the waters and the pain it inflicted her, she could almost spot something in the sea of darkness—a pale glimmer across the river, as if it was kissed by the light, one that by all means couldn’t have reached it, from the cocoon of rock that separated it from the sight of the sky. 

That separated her from the sight of the sky, locking her in her place, in the darkness. 

And out of the darkness came the goddess, eternal and ethereal, her eyes cruelly bright. 

“Do you remember the times when flowers would bloom for you?” She asked, taking her place by her side. 

Ingrid did not. Her thoughts were occupied by what she could now see—the waters, now most certainly shining, where the goddess’s light shed upon them, and the sharp rocks that surrounded them, sprouting from all corners of her vision. 

“They would.”  Seiros insisted. “Back when you walked the earth with your head held high.” 

Back when he walked with her. 

“The times were different.” Ingrid replied. “Life was different.” 

The goddess dragged her knees on the stone, until her eyes faced Ingrid’s. 

“It was life, Ingrid. Life that still continues, outside of here. Life you should be a part of.” 

“And he didn’t deserve the same?” Ingrid asked. 

For a moment, the pain in her heart was too strong, and she closed her eyes, willing the violent light away, though she could still see it move slowly, as the goddess blinked. 

“Nothing could have changed his fate.” She spoke softly, as if raising her voice could’ve broken her like glass. “But you are not supposed to be here. Your place is among the living things, with the fields and the flowers you raised from the earth.” 

Suddenly Ingrid could see it, in the depths of her memory—the days when she’d walked the fields of the surface, with Glenn at her side as she grew blossoms in her hands, to make children smile. 

She remembered he’d praised her. She remembered  Seiros had as well, when she found her weeping over his body. “You need to stand up,” she’d told Ingrid, and Ingrid hadn’t listened. She’d let herself... be what she was now. 

She opened her eyes, fought against the grip of the stone around her, to turn her head and look at the goddess. Her tongue felt like stone, but she tried finding the words. 

“You told me I’d been sleeping. You told me to wake up.” Ingrid trembled. “I don’t know how.” 

“Do you wish to?” The goddess asked.

The rivers sang behind her golden crown, and Ingrid’s heart ached and filled her eyes with tears, but she nodded. 

Seiros touched her cheek, her skin soft against Ingrid’s, comforting like a mother’s voice. 

“I will give you time.” She told her. “I will bring you help.”

Ingrid nodded, and  Seiros waited until her tears were dry, before closing her eyes, and fading in the darkness. 

The next time the touch of light tore through the black, it wasn’t the goddess to bring it, but a far smaller figure standing in the middle of the river, water up to her knees and fire between her hands, her green eyes bright and gentle like the shine of the stars. 


End file.
